The author, Roy Hattersley, was a senior Labour politician back in the day (indeed, I briefly worked with him in my youth in the ancient Solidarity campaign to stop the rise of the SDP) but he was always, like Denis Healey, a bit more than that - a man with a 'hinterland'.
Very late in life, he produced this family biography of the aristocratic Devonshire family, one of around 20 books. This might seem an unlikely subject for a lower middle class lad who became Deputy Leader of the Labour Party but his interest here is in the exercise of power.
It is an odd book because it is not really a family biography (though it does present itself as that) so much as a set of essays on the moments in history from the sixteenth to late nineteenth century when the senior members of the family played important roles in decisions that shaped Britain.
At one level we see the canny rise of a family into the highest ranks of the aristocracy, part of the class that emerged after the plundering of the Catholic Church, through astute marriages, purchases and courtly connections as well as its 'fall', largely from democratic death duties and debt.
At another level, Hattersley's quite detailed descriptions of the political engagements of successive Dukes and other key family members sheds light on who ran Britain, the risks they sometimes ran and how they and Britain transformed each other at each point.
The Devonshires were very much Whig Grandees. What that meant was that they were committed to property (of which they had immense amounts, albeit often with nearly as large debts) and to liberty. English liberties, which they undoubtedly defended, were intimately bound with the right to property.
This is something British Socialists have often had difficulty coming to terms with. Liberty is a core English (not Scots) value and it has become embedded at the poorest levels of society precisely because it was defended so vigorously by those who fought for it against the Crown.
The classic internal contradiction was that the Devonshires could see no fundamental difference between their values of service and honour (which undoubtedly were sincerely maintained) and their 'interest'. If they owned estates in Ireland then fighting Home Rule became 'principle'. Hmmm!
We can cite the role of Hartington (the title of the 'crown prince' of the Devonshires) in transitioning the Whigs from the Liberal Party to the support of the Tory Party as it became the Conservative & Unionist Party. Whigs owned estates in Ireland = interest!
Thus, we see a House (as in 'Game of Thrones' or 'Dune') having a powerful interest in the Protestant ascendency and central to the Glorious Revolution but also being liberal and tolerant towards minorities so long as they did not actively threaten the prevailing order.
When things were stable, their instinct seems to have been towards laziness and holding office out of apparent duty but without the ambition to do anything that was not on their terms. Sometimes they became introvert scientists, collectors, often builders and pleasure lovers.
The cultural shifts in the nation are all here - from the civil war and post civil war tensions where there were real risks to property and even lives on to the louche eighteenth century and Regency period (where we have the scandalous story of the spoilt and dim Georgiana Duchess of Devonshire).
Then we are into the Seventh Duke's personally disastrous but nationally important dabblings in industrialisation and the creation of the resort town of Eastbourne before his son's politics in the age of Gladstone take centre-stage.
In the case of the latter, Hattersley is in his element because he is speaking of a world he knew intimately: Cabinet and Parliamentary politics which has not changed very much in form since the Age of Walpole. We just elect the people who merge interest with power, that is all.
Where once the Devonshires relied on the Crown and then on the Whig Ascendency and the Glorious Revolution, power and interest moved surprisingly rapidly into the hands of 'voters', first on a small franchise and then in increments to the mass voting of the modern era.
This meant an entirely new politics of excitability and of delivering goodies and meaning through rhetoric, exemplified by Gladstone's Midlothian Campaign. An uneasy period when aristocratic power and popular power were mediated by Parliament eventually led to the elimination of the first.
The Tory Party was structured to use voters with patriotic promises to sustain elite power while first Liberals and then Labour emerged to represent popular needs and compete on patriotisms. Entirely new elites emerged that have since solidified into the political class we know today.
This all happened surprisingly quickly and could theoretically be reversed as quickly (indeed, I would argue it is being reversed by stealth by our current centrist establishment). My grandparents were born at that moment of transition just before Lloyd George emerged.
The book is thus not a history of Britain or a deep analysis of aristocratic power. Hattersley makes no significant political judgements drawn from his own history. All he allows himself is a little bit of lower middle class moralising of a mildly Pooterish kind about aristocratic sexual behaviour.
The work should thus be read only as an entertainment (even if Hattersley sometimes gets carried away with the dull detail of, say, Liberal educational policy in the early 1900s) or as a set of case studies in the actuality of power. It is the latter that should intrigue the intelligent reader.
To be honest, none of the Devonshires seems a particularly bad sort although many do seem to be cunning rather than truly intelligent and others lazy so a question arises whether aristocrats were a good or a bad thing in the construction of Britain.
But that question is meaningless. They were as they were. The process of history did for them in the long run. Whether we are much better off with our current political class is much more the moot question. It is a point of possible condemnation of the now rather than a possible praise of the then.
Death duties seem to have been a progressive innovation. So they should have been but looked at coldly, on the plus side, they helped construct a viable welfare state (probably no longer viable because of waste and mismanagement) but also a dangerous warfare state ('the Crown').
Similarly death duties also got 'democratised' into extensive inheritance taxes that unravelled the incentive for building family wealth and so families to feed the maw of the military-industrial complex and the public sector's special interest which has replaced first Church and then Whiggery.
In the end, popular democracy ended up being a half-baked reform in which political parties could construct self-interested professional elites who were skilled at manipulating public desires and needs but whose actual plundering behaviours often differed little from that of aristocrats.
Although perhaps not as bad as the regime of Louis Philippe, there is a strong whiff of 'enrichissez-vous' about the elite members of our current political class and certainly of office through connections. This is definitely not how the old Labour Party of Hattersley's day operated.
It is as if the Glorious Revolution not merely stalled but perhaps went into reverse once Labour and the Tories (in the era after Hattersley's retirement) turned politics into the twenty-first century equivalent of the old Tory vision of the 'Crown' as fount of patronage and office.
The aristocrats are gone now. Their patronage created some great and good things whilst still often being wrong'uns. Their departure is no bad thing but the democratic revolution that was supposed to replace them seems to have gone horribly wrong as fiscal and administrative ineptitude has mounted.
Hattersley's mini-case studies of power and privilege effectively stop just before the First World War when the rot of an over-powerful executive obsessed with its own security sets in but each is instructive about an aspect of how things came to be. And that is always a matter of 'interest'.